


Please Don't Bite [WIP]

by KindListener



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Closeted Character, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Hot Springs & Onsen, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Rape Roleplay, Restraints, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Teasing, Unsafe Sex, kind of? not really???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26543554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener
Summary: Status:Unfinished.Pairing(s):Takeshi Kido x Kazuo Takehashi (OC), Nobusuke Tagomi x Kazuo Takehashi (OC)Warnings:Dub-con roleplay, knife play.Summary:Kazuo decides to test his luck with Inspector Kido and the Trade Minister... He must be damn near suicidal.
Kudos: 2





	1. Kiss Me on the Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chief Inspector Kido is used to having his way, due to his position, and forcing him to hand over control is a sure-fire way to ensure a slow painful death at the hands of the Kempeitai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Because Inspector Kido is a bitchy bottom but nobody wants to talk about it. Also, translations can be found in the end notes.)

Working late, Inspector Kido has engrossed himself in a series of articles to assist him in his current case. His is the only office with lights on at this time of night, his desk lamp casting a golden glow over the office and stark shadows over his angular features. His coat and hat hang from the stand in the corner and his waistcoat over the back of his chair. His tie is loosened around his throat and the first buttons of his dress shirt have been popped open to make himself more comfortable. Kazuo watches him from the corridor, watching him take down notes and squint at the small font of the articles. He should be thankful for the Detective's interruption.

Bursting through the door, Kazuo watches the Inspector physically jump, pen falling to the desk.  
"What are you do--" Rounding his desk chair, the younger man clamps a hand over his mouth, silencing him.  
"Hush, Inspector. I thought you'd be happy to see me." The Detective teases and Kido's eyes narrow.

After a few minutes of kicking and hushed yelling, Kazuo manages to tie the Chief Inspector over his own desk with a length of rope to bind his wrists and ankles to each leg. The younger man stands behind him, eagerly surveying the landscape of his body. Kido-Buchou's dress shirt is pulled tightly over the broadness of his back, shoulder blades pressing against the fabric. The angle of his desk lamp creates stark shadows across his shoulders, angular and sharp.  
"You know what this could do to you, Detective Takehashi." Kido-Buchou hisses, testing the strength of the bonds as he feels control of the situation slipping through his fingers. The movement makes the muscles in his back grow taut and lax and Kazuo watches with mild interest, fingers following the contours of the Inspector's slim body.

So scandalous...and not just for Detective Takehashi. The authorities despise faggots and forcing himself on the Chief Inspector? He's used to having his way, due to his position, and forcing him to hand over control is a sure-fire way to ensure a slow painful death at the hands of the Kempeitai. He must be damn near suicidal.

Kazuo moves in close, standing between Kido's outstretched legs.  
"You're so beautiful like this, Inspector; all laid out for me, but you still don't think I know how much you love this treatment." The younger man reaches for the pocket in his dress pants and pulls out a switchblade. "You should be more honest with yourself, Inspector..." He leans down to whisper against the Inspector's ear, trailing the point of the blade over his ribs. Breath catches in Kido's lungs, his body going still at the introduction of the weapon. Easily, the Detective cuts into the seam along his side, slitting it open and tearing away the fabric of his shirt to reveal a canvas of scars and strong muscle, flush with blood just below the dermis. Humming lowly, he traces the contours of the older man's spine, dipping across every vertebrae, and Kido-Buchou shudders. A soft sigh escapes him and he bites the inside of his mouth to repress any other noises from leaving him involuntarily.  
"... Be quiet, Kazuo." He grits back but the younger man leans to press a chaste kiss to the nape of his neck.  
"Must I be more forceful, Inspector?" Dragging the blade a little harder over his bare side, Kazuo feels the Inspector's body tense under his grip, the hand not holding the knife splayed out across his lower back. The point of the knife threatens to break the skin, raking a line over his ribcage. Sweat breaks out across Kido-Buchou's skin, heat flooding his body as he runs the blade under the waistline of his dress pants. They're pulled tightly over the smooth curves of his perfect ass and Kazuo can't help but reach down to squeeze. "You're going to be begging me to fuck you, Inspector." He purrs, grinding the front of his suit, already tented from his own erection, against the Inspector's ass.  
"You forget to whom you're speaking..." Kido-Buchou breathes, swallowing thickly as the younger man traces his spine with the blade again, being careful not to break the skin. A stifled moan is choked out of the body before the Detective, the Inspector's hands reaching to curl around the side of the desk. Kazuo draws the knife away and watches the older man relax visibly. He will be a tough nut to crack. He should've suspected.

Sitting in Kido-Buchou's leather desk chair, Kazuo sits behind him, knees resting between his outstretched thighs as he reaches up to palm at his ass within the tight confines of his dress pants. The Inspector tugs at his bonds again, huffing when he can't pull himself free.  
"You won't get away with this, Detective Takehashi." He growls through gritted teeth as the younger man reaches around to unbuckle the Inspector's belt, pop the button, pull down the fly and push his dress pants down to his knees, leaving him in his tight, white briefs. His golden skin is hot to the touch and slightly sticky with sweat, making his body shine in the light. Kazuo gently runs a fingertip from his ass and over his clothed perineum before cupping his hand around Kido-Buchou's half-hard cock. A bitten-back groan is his response, knuckles bone white with the force he grips the edge of the desk. Through crooked glasses, the Chief Inspector glances up. The blinds into the rest of the floor are tilted up. Anyone could see this, could see Kazuo shamelessly groping him.  
"What do you think, Inspector?" The Detective purrs, slowly tracing a fingertip around the crown of Kido-Buchou's thickening cock.  
"I think...you're going to be shot for this..." The Inspector murmurs breathily.  
"You're always so serious and tense, Inspector. I reckon you just need an outlet, a way to release all this pent up energy." The Detective's hands move to Kido-Buchou's shoulders, grasping them and slowly kneading his fingers into the flesh. "You carry it in your shoulders." Leaning the length of his body across his back, Kazuo plants a kiss between his shoulder blades, clothed cock sliding against his ass. Instinctively, the Inspector arches his back, grinding back against the Detective. Reaching down, Kazuo pulls his briefs over the swell of his backside and push them down his thighs, exposing the curve of his arousal. Kido-Buchou's body is so warm, pricked with heat as the fabric of the younger man's dress pants ruts against his bare entrance.  
"Hahh... Stop, Detective, I won't be made party to your..." The words die in the Inspector's throat as he presses his forehead to the table, glasses clattering against the wood.

Kazuo flops back into the Inspector's chair, dragging his nails up the back of the Inspector's smooth thighs. The sensation sends a violent shiver through his slim frame.  
"K-Kazuo...! Stop! Yameru, yameru, yameru..." Kido-Buchou chants, words muffled and breaths laboured. His golden skin glistens under the light of the lamp, shivering slightly with every touch. Grabbing two handfuls of his ass, the Detective exposes the twitching rim of his entrance.  
"Chief Inspector Kido..." He sighs, pressing a kiss to the back of the older man's thigh which pulls a choked back whine from the Kempeitai before him. "You're so precious, Inspector..." Pressing his tongue to the muscle, the younger man can feel Kido arch his back, hearing the lewd, slick sounds that fill his office and the way he huffs out a high moan.  
"Shinai!" He yelps, slamming his palm against the table as Kazuo laves his tongue against his entrance again. The Detective strokes calming circles over the small of Kido-Buchou's back, easing him into the sensation. Troubled, surprised gasps melt into desperate, broken moans. Sloppy kisses are pressed to the puckered skin and gently Kazuo presses his tongue past his rim, breaching his body and drawing the most gorgeous noises from his throat. "Haahnn... Detective Takehashi... Sore ha kanzi masu..." Despite the way he writhes and curls his fingers against his palm, the younger man's tongue slides in relatively easily. Pulling away with a kiss to the flesh, the Detective watches the way his entrance twitches and clenches, the rim flushed with colour thanks to his incessant teasing.

Palming at the front of his own suit pants, Detective Kazuo slicks a finger with saliva, tracing around the muscle tentatively before pushing inside. Warm, brown eyes flick up to watch Kido-Buchou swallow thickly, his shoulder blades straining against the skin as he manages a strangled cry. His insides clench tight around the digits but the Detective can tell, from the sounds he makes, that he can take more.  
"You touch yourself here, Inspector?" He whispers gently against the older man's skin and Kazuo watches him nod sheepishly.  
"H-Hai..." Twisting his wrist, the Detective presses his fingertip expertly against Kido-Buchou's prostate, sliding in a second digit and hearing him bite back a loud groan at the stretch. "Yoi! Totemo yoi, Tantei-San..."  
"How much can you take, Inspector?" The younger man teases, pressing the heel of his palm against his own crotch. Slowly, he begins to pump his fingers in and out, adoring the way Kido-Buchou's toes curl when he brushes over his prostate with the tips of his fingers. The Inspector's babbling in Japanese, unintelligible and needy.  
"... Pl-Please, Detective..." He seems halfway between denial and acceptance, pleading for...something. Anything. Kazuo begins to scissor his fingers, watching the Inspector attempt to pull from his binds as his chest heaves.

Popping the button on his pants and dragging down the fly, Kazuo releases his cock to the air. Inspector Kido's display has him aching to be inside the usually strict Kampeitai but he has to be patient if he wants the Inspector to break completely. The Detective removes his fingers from Kido-Buchou's body, stands and presses the underside of his cock against his slicked rim. The heat of the older man's body is intense, pressed against the shaft of Kazuo's cock. The sensation of emptiness has the Inspector gasping and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stand on the tips of his toes, arching his back.  
"Gamandekinai...!" He manages through hisses and moans and the Detective smirks, his goal just coming within reach.  
"If you want me inside you, Kido-Buchou, you only have to tell me." The Detective murmurs, rocking his hips until they're flush with the Inspector's.  
"I have to-- You want me to--" Beg. Yes.  
"Beg for me, Inspector. I'll fill you to the best of my ability." At that, a frustrated, embarrassed huff leaves the man before him. Continuing to grind his weeping cock against his entrance, the younger man watches him weighing up the pros and cons of the situation... Then, eventually:  
"... Please, fill me, Detective...please..." He manages and Kazuo nods, understanding that's probably the best he'll get out of him for now, pulling back to press the crown of his cock against the slick, pulsing rim. The heat of Kido-Buchou's body is so inviting. Slowly, the Detective pushes the crown into him and the Inspector's back arches as the younger man leans forward, using his switchblade to slice through his bonds. To equal measures of surprise, amusement and pleasure, Kido-Buchou doesn't move from under him, instead pushing back against his cock for more. The Inspector is eager and his body is hungry for sensation. Kazuo presses his length into him, becoming consumed by the tight heat of his insides.

All of a sudden, the Inspector hoists himself up, shakily sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He turns, the remainder of his ruined suit falling away from his body as he faces the younger man. Dark eyes burn with rage but, behind that, there lies a flame of wanton desire. A want to be claimed and bred like a cheap whore. He stares at Kazuo challengingly before moving to sit on his desk, skin pressed against the leather desk pad as his thighs fall open.  
"You still want this, Inspector?" Dark eyes fall, bashfully, to the desk as The Detective trails his fingertips along his inner thigh. Shuddering, raising his eyes to him, the younger man can tell he doesn't need a verbal answer. In his eyes; I already told you I wanted this, Kazuo. Pressing onward, the younger man pushes the head back inside, feeling the Inspector's hands brace against his shoulders as he presses deeper and deeper. Kido-Buchou's eyes squeeze shut, breath shaky as the Detective presses his hips flush against the Inspector's ass, burying himself deep within the Inspector's trembling body. Long, slender fingers grip at the younger man's shoulders as he begins to move his hips. Kazuo thrusts into him, movements slow and deep as Kido-Buchou wraps his legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Can you be loud for me, Kido-Buchou?" The Detective sighs as his body stills, filling the Kampeitai before him perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally being slotted into one another. The Inspector nods shakily.

Now Kido-Buchou is facing Kazuo, he can see how beautifully ashamed he's become. Heat floods the Inspector's face and creeps down his slender neck, spreading across his shoulders. His dark eyes are still squeezed shut, brows knit together in pleasure as the Detective's cock throbs, deep, inside. The swell of his adam's apple bobs when he gasps for air, whispering something unintelligible in Japanese.  
"Louder." Kazuo sighs and Kido-Buchou swallows thickly.  
"I-It feels...so good... I can't-- Haah...!" Arching his back, he bites at his lip.  
"Us filthy Americans taught you to love cock, huh? Amaimono?" The Detective demands and the Inspector's eyes ease open just a little, staring at him defiantly but with enough poorly-disguised, guilt-ridden lust that Kazuo can see right through him. One hand leaves his hip and the younger man grabs his jaw, pulling in closer until their lips are but an inch apart. "Did we teach you how to be a good cockslut, Kido-Buchou? You barely needed any preparation and I slid in so perfectly." The Detective teases and Kido-Buchou huffs out a breath of indignation, unable to hold his Detective's gaze. Pushing his glasses up his nose, the Inspector yelps in surprise as the younger man pushes into his body and claims his lips in the same moment. Long fingers tangle in Kazuo's hair, pulling it out of it's tight bun, as the Inspector sighs against his lips. Long fingers pass through the Detective's long, dark hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Buchou. - (A respectful honorific.)  
> Yameru. - Stop.  
> Shinai. - Don't.  
> Sore ha kanzi masu... - That feels...  
> Yoi! Totemo yoi, Tantei-San... - Good! So good, Detective...  
> Gamandekinai. - I can't stand it.  
> Amaimono. - Sweet thing.


	2. Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Kazuo is invited to the Trade Minister's home to witness the opening of his new, private onsen. They indulge maybe a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Translations can be found in the end notes, as usual.)

The taxi stops outside the large, traditional Japanese home, Kazuo thanks the driver and gets out, wandering up the stone pathway to the Trade Minister's house. The Trade Minister's home smells like incense and freshly cut grass with an underlying scent of Tagomi-Buchou's cologne. It smells like home and brings a warmth to the Detective's chest before he can even raise a hand to knock on the door. When he manages to lift a hand, he knocks three times, hearing the Trade Minister's housekeeper shuffle down the hallway to slide open the door. She immediately recognises him but Tagomi-Buchou steps into Kazuo's line of sight and dismisses her with a small, courteous bow.  
"Kazuo-San. You accepted my invitation." The Detective nods and bows lowly.  
"Of course, Tagomi-Buchou, I pride myself in my personable character." The younger man smiles as he rises and the Trade Minister can barely hide the affectionate smile that pulls at his lips.  
"And humble too, I see." The two share a short moment, gazing at one another in the mid-evening light, pink sunlight, softened by the paper shades, illuminates their faces. "Won't you come in?"

"What possessed you to have this built?" Kazuo asks as the Trade Minister leads him to the newly-built changing room, lit by flickering candles in paper lanterns. The space is only small, barely big enough for the two of them but Tagomi-Buchou carries his weight effortlessly, like a majestic crane. Reaching up, the Trade Minister removes his glasses and sets them down next to one of the candles.  
"I have been spending much of my time meditating, Kazuo-San." He explains, slowly pulling off his tie clip and tugging his tie out of a knot, folding it onto the short bamboo bench in the centre of the room. The older man reaches for the top button of his shirt, easily pulling his collar open. "I wanted a space where I could meditate in comfort."  
"Of course." The Detective removes his suit jacket and begins on his waistcoat, folding them quickly and laying them on the bench. His face flushes, though it's less noticeable by candlelight, as Tagomi-Buchou moves further down his chest, parting the material gracefully, like a butterfly opening its wings.  
"Do I still embarrass you, Kazuo-San?" The question is asked with a hint of humour and the Detective doesn't have to turn to know that Tagomi-Buchou is smiling. His smile is affectionate, genuine, warm. The Trade Minister knows him all too well. The Detective turns to face the Trade Minister, hands firmly by his sides.  
"Of course not." His hands busy themselves on the knot of his tie, clumsily pulling it out as his eyes roam across Tagomi-Buchou's body. Swallowing thickly, Kazuo nearly rips the buttons from his shirt as he pulls it open but the older man gently grasps his wrists and holds them by his sides, unbuttoning the Detective's shirt carefully, taking his time.  
"Slow down." Tagomi-Buchou murmurs softly as he finishes on the buttons, sliding the starched cotton from the Detective's broad shoulders, littered with puckered scars. "There." The vast expanse of Kazuo's burnt, scarred chest is visible under the candlelight and Tagomi-Buchou feels his chest swell with pride as he returns to his own clothes. "You are still the man I met seventeen years ago, Kazuo-San." Leaning down, the Trade Minister hitches his pants over the slight curve of his hips, folding them neatly on the bench. The Detective mirrors his movements, slowly inching the black suit pants over his thighs as he watches Tagomi-Buchou's hands reach for the waistband of his briefs. Swiftly, Kazuo draws his gaze away and folds his pants, socks and underwear on the bench. His silhouette, outlined in dappled, orange candlelight makes the older man sigh pleasantly as he bares himself totally. "On to the main event, Kazuo-San?" Tagomi-Buchou teases as he replaces his glasses.

The room is small; the floor paved with river rocks, the walls lined with young bamboo along the top half and more river rocks along the bottom. On one side, two mirrors grace the wall with small tatami mats and wooden stools laid before them, accompanied by shower hoses and the Trade Minister's favourite brand of soap. The actual spring is cordoned off by a half-wall of young bamboo, a floor-to-ceiling window displaying his beautiful garden outside on the wall beside it. A small shower block is tucked into the wall with a sliding glass door. The whole room is lit by square lanterns, containing light-bulbs this time, that cast a golden glow over everything except the water that stays a pale aqua blue. The soft sound of water and the distant thump of a deer scare outside make Kazuo's shoulders relax instinctively as he steps over the threshold.  
"... It's beautiful." The younger man murmurs, in awe of the way the light of the lanterns glint on the surface of the water. Tagomi-Buchou nods in agreement, striding over to one of the many stools before the mirrors, skin golden in the light. Scars, long since healed, are a bright white on his skin, stretched over the ridges of his shoulder blades as he sits. Without his suit, he seems so weak, so powerless. Here, he is but a man, enjoying the heat of the onsen and the company of an old friend.

Hesitantly, Kazuo moves to sit on the stool beside him, slowly reaching for the older man's right hand and pulling it into his lap to study the weathered palm, silently. The lines that span across his palm are deep, like canyons among hills. The path that cuts across the top of his palm is worn and rather dry, the Detective notes as he traces it with a fingertip. Any superstitious person could tell you that Tagomi-Buchou has been...unlucky with his loved ones. The line, curved and held away from the base of his fingers -- supposedly -- represents his loyalty, his loving, sensual nature. Maybe, once upon a time... Kazuo traces across the paths that line the Trade Minister's palm, hearing his breath catch in his lungs as the younger man sends sensation racing up his arm, raising goosebumps along the limb. When he flexes his fingers, the high canyon gouged into the top of his palm lays flatter, like a river bed flowing with water; hope. The Detective traces the line again, gently tracing the path with a fingernail, making Tagomi-Buchou release a shuddering breath as his fingers tremble. The Trade Minister's breaths grow short and laboured as he cocks his head to watch Kazuo study his hand with intent. The Detective hears the change and lifts the hand, pressing his lips to the base of the older mans wrist, feeling his pulse quicken at the gesture.  
"Kazuo-San, you don't--" Warm, brown eyes, the colour of Cypress bark, meet the Trade Minister's gaze as the younger man uses his hand to trace the full, soft flesh of his lips. The skin, pink and soft, feels like velvet beneath his fingertips as he stares longingly. Kazuo holds his gaze as long as he can, gently flicking at Tagomi-Buchou's fingertip with the tip of his tongue and making him choke back a soft moan.  
"Your hands must be tired, Tagomi-Buchou." He whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to every fingertip.

Lifting his stool to sit behind Tagomi-Buchou, Kazuo gently traces his fingers along the ridges of his shoulder blades. Resting his chin on the older man's shoulder, the Detective snakes his arms around the older man's chest, trailing the tips of his fingers over the peaks over his clavicle and drawing soft, deep moans that rumble from his throat. Every couple of minutes or so, the deer scare thumps against its rock, punctuating the fluttering sound of his breathing.  
"... Look at yourself, Tagomi-Buchou." The mirror is slightly foggy, creating a gauzy effect around the two mens' reflection.  
"I've become an old fool, haven't I, Kazuo-San?" He huffs out a humourless chuckle but the Detective shakes his head, hands inching down his sternum to branch out across his pectorals.  
"Kyogi, Okyakusama." He sighs against the skin. "You have blossomed." Kazuo playfully traps the buds of the Trade Minister's nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently and making Tagomi-Buchou arch his back, groans bubbling from his lips. "You have become a true gentleman; kind, honourable, generous and yet all we seem to do is take." The Detective's smooth palms slide down the older man's sides. The deer scare thumps.

Wrapping his arms around Tagomi-Buchou's midsection, Kazuo squeezes tightly, as if the man will turn to dust were he to let go. The motion makes the older man open his mouth to say something and then close it after consideration. The Detective presses a kiss to the back of his neck. His hands descend over Tagomi-Buchou's abdomen and onto the raised ligaments that join his legs to the rest of his body. The seam there is tender, sensitive, and Kazuo knows how to play the Trade Minister like a well-tuned instrument. The older man tries to bite back a moan but acts too slowly and leans back, body splayed out across the Detective's own.  
"Gently. Gently." The younger man whispers as Tagomi-Bouchou reaches beside him, hands gripping at his thighs in preparation for the pleasure to come. "Slowly, Okyakusama. Enjoy yourself. I'm not going anywhere." Weaving his fingers around the base of Tagomi-Buchou's aching cock, Kazuo takes his time mapping out the landscape of his lower body. First, along his inner thighs as the Trade Minister tightens his fingers around the Detective's legs. He's hissing out breaths, back arched and head on the Detective's shoulder, as the younger man explores his body. A fingertip dips a little lower, dragging gently against his entrance and making him gasp. Over the silky flesh of his perineum and then over the swell of his full balls, up the steep slope of his shaft and along the shielded, weeping crown, flushed with heat--  
"Ijimenaide, Kazuo-San...!" He groans out, the words dragged from his throat tortuously, as he huffs out laboured breaths, fingers digging bruises into the younger man's thighs.

Stopping his teasing for a short time, Kazuo watches as precome leaks from the partially revealed crown, making it glitter and shine.  
"So sensitive, Tagomi-Buchou..." The Detective coos against his ear, hands palming up and down Tagomi-Buchou's thighs soothingly. "Mō kitai? Hm?" He asks, voice genuine and soft as he lifts a hand to trace along the older man's jaw. "I can make you come, amaimono."  
"Onegaishimasu..." Tagomi-Buchou reaches to grasp the Detective's hand, tangling their fingers together, as the younger man's other hand continues to rub soothing circles along his inner thigh.  
"Of course, Tagomi-Buchou." Gently, Kazuo grasps the older man's weeping cock, carefully easing the thin skin from over the crown and baring it to the air.  
"Hahh... Hahh... Kazuo-San, hai..." The Trade Minister breathes heavily as the Detective slowly begins to pump his hand, the slide eased significantly by the amount of precome already gathered across the shaft. Nudging Tagomi-Buchou's head, Kazuo encourages him to watch in the increasingly steamed mirror. Pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, Tagomi-Buchou watches the way the Detective lavishes him with loving attention, the hand around his cock moving in slow, fluid strokes. His other hand trails his fingertips lightly up and down the front of the older man's throat, feeling every bob of his adam's apple, every vibration when he moans, deep in his chest.  
"Utsukushī." Kazuo whispers as he presses open-mouthed kisses along Tagomi-Buchou's shoulder. His pace increases slightly, thumb gently strumming against the taut flesh of the older man's frenulum and feeling him bite back a low whine. Dark, lidded eyes watch the Detective as he expertly brings the Trade Minister to climax.  
"I can't...hold on, Kazuo..."  
"Come for me, Tagomi-Buchou..." The younger man sighs and the Trade Minister gasps as he bucks up into the Detective's grip. Come oozes from the crown, white spattering against the tatami mat as he shudders in Kazuo's arms as they hold him protectively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Buchou. - (A respectful honorific.)  
> Kyogi, Okyakusama. - Untrue, sir.  
> Ijimenaide. - Don't tease.  
> Mō kitai? - You want to come already?  
> Amaimono. - Sweet thing.  
> Onegaishimasu. - Please.  
> Hai. - Yes.  
> Utsukushī. - Lovely.


End file.
